Pulp Fiction, Part Two

Photo by Jose Padua
Putting on my shoes
this autumn morning
I notice how my ankles
aren’t swollen
and that the skin
on my lower legs
is no longer taut and dry
the way it was
this past summer;
and the poem
that comes to mind,
as spoken by
my vascular specialist,
is a simple one:
compression socks.
And now,
for the rest
of my days,
whenever I walk
the Earth like Caine
in Kung Fu,
or like the bad motherfucker
Samuel L. Jackson plays
in Pulp Fiction,
I’ll be wearing
my compressions socks,
gliding across sidewalks,
travelling over dirt roads,
forging new paths
under the starry sky,
ready for what happens
next.

-Jose Padua

Photograph by Jose Padua

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4 responses to “Pulp Fiction, Part Two

  1. You have picked the two baddest badasses to emulate in your compression socks. I wonder why. When I wear my compression socks to run I feel more like John Travolta wearing Steve Buscemi’s clothes after he ruined his own with blood and brains from his horrible gun discharge than I feel like Samuel Jackson wearing his black suit.

    • shenandoahbreakdown

      ha! I like my compression socks. I went to see PiL wearing them last month, and I felt that I could get up and dance even on my bad knees. I would have broken something of course, but that compression sock feeling was a good feeling for me!

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